Not Just A Kiss
by SSC
Summary: An ‘accident’ concerning a Dementor changes Harry’s life. After OotP, non HBPcompliant. Dementorish!Harry
1. Something Wicked This Way Comes

_Summary: **An 'accident' concerning a Dementor changes Harry's life. After OotP, non HBP-compliant.**_

_Disclaimer: JK Rowlings owns Harry Potter. I got the idea for this fic after reading 'Darkness Unleashed' by __MadnessPersonified_

_A/N: I know, I shouldn't be starting another story when "Innocence" isn't finished yet. But the plot bunny bit me, and now I'm stuck. Blame the bunny, not me._

_I'm not happy with this chapter. It doesn't feel original enough, and I'm always scared of becoming someone who steals other's work... But it begs to be written, so what can I do?_

**To Shred A Soul: Chapter 1: Something Wicked This Way Comes**

:-:

_**July 31th 1996 – late evening**_

_Elphias Doge was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He had been part of it since Dumbledore started it – in the seventies, that was – and had survived all those battles with Death Eaters because he was quick with his wand, but old age had started nibbling at his reflexes. Yet, he had agreed to guarding the Boy-Who-Lived today. He knew how strong the protection around Privet Drive 4 was. The Potter boy couldn't get in any trouble here. Of course, there'd been that business with those Dementors last year, but the odds of something like that happening again were extremely small, even with You-Know-Who on the loose._

_Had he known Harry Potter at all, he would realize that if there was a tiny chance of getting into trouble, Harry managed to let it happen. Alas, he did not know Harry that well, and thus he wasn't as observant as he should have been. _

_He followed the boy when he went to the park nearby, but his Invisibility Cloak seemed to get stuck on something when he rounded a corner. He cursed softly and pulled at the cloak. Ah – the perpetrator appeared to be a protruding nail. _

_Several minutes later he entered the park, and wondered where Harry Potter was. He always came here, he always took the same route, and he couldn't have disappeared, right? What could happen in a few minutes?_

_Much, apparently._

_A feeling of dread rose in his suddenly-too-tight chest when he finally found Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived wasn't the reason, though – it was the dark shape in front of the boy whose presence made Elphias hands shake. _

_The Boy-Who-Lived was on his knees, his hands pressed tightly against his scar, in front of a Dementor._

_And the Dementor was Kissing him._

_Elphias whipped out his wand as fast as was possible with his old and trembling fingers, prayed silently it wasn't too late, and yelled out the Patronus Charm._

"Expecto –"

_Before he could finish the charm, hower, the Dementor disappeared. It didn't glide away, it just faded into nothingness. There was a small explosion of dark light – a darkness so utterly overwelming it resembled a negative sun – and Harry Potter dropped on the grass like a puppet with broken strings._

_Elphias begged every god who would listen that he wasn't actually Kissed. Let it all be a bad dream, he is the Chosen One, don't let him become a human vegetable, he's just a child..._

_It was as he approached Harry Potter, when he realised something wasn't right. He could still feel the Dementor's influence, the cold and the icy dread..._

_But there was no other Dementor nearby. The uncomfortable feeling was coming from the Boy-Who-Lived._

:-:

_**August 3rd 1996 – around noon**_

It was cold. He didn't know where he was, he couldn't remember going to sleep, and he barely even remembered his own name. Everything was a haze – he was still half asleep.

He tried to turn on his side, but something kept him from moving. He struggled to become a bit more awake, and tried to move again.

Yes, there was definitely something keeping his arms at his sides. The same went for his legs, they too were strapped neatly to the flat surface he was lying on. Also, he could feel a thick sheet resting on top of him, the soft cloth tickling his chin, but it didn't help against the cold. He shivered, and opened his eyes.

Well, he wasn't in Voldemort's dungeons, he supposed. Unless old Tom had decided to redecorate everything in a clean, hospital-like white.

Wait. Hospital? Now he mentioned it, this room did look a bit like the infirmary... Only a lot smaller. Was he at Hogwarts?

He tested the restraints and found himself quite unable to move. If this was Hogwarts, why was he chained to the bed?

The door in the corner suddenly opened. Two people entered, and he fished for the memories about who they were... Oh, right. Snape and Dumbledore. The latter looked exceptionally grave, and even a bit pained. Snape's face however was expressionless.

Dumbledore took a seat across the bed. "Harry."

Harry? Right... His name... Harry Potter. Together with the name other memories came tumbling back, about his life, his friends, Hogwarts... But nothing about the reason he was here, restrained.

"Professor, what happened?"

Dumbledore looked at him gravely. "So you are finally awake. Good." He smiled faintly. "I cannot explain everything to you, I'm afraid. I won't be able to remain in this room much longer. My Occlumency is weakening too fast. But Professor Snape is strong enough in Occlumency, and he shall explain to you what I can't."

Harry blinked. Why did Dumbledore need mental barriers in this room? Harry didn't feel any strong Legilimens nearby...

"As you may have guessed by now, Harry, you're in Hogwarts. Do you have any recollection of what happened at the park?"

Harry shook his head, since it was the only body part not restrained.

"Ah. Perhaps the memory shall return. In the meantime I'll tell you what I've managed to puzzle together thanks to the eyewitnesses and the proof we found.

According to your relatives, you left the house on the evening of the day you turned sixteen. One of your Order guards, Elphias Doge, followed you to the park. Sadly enough, Mr. Doge was less than completely careful and lost your trail for a few minutes. When he found you, you were on your knees in front of a Dementor." He saw Harry's horror and smiled sadly. "This is nothing to be ashamed of. You have seen horrible things, and after just losing your godfather... My guess is you were overwelmed by the Dementor and it... took advantage of that."

Harry swallowed. "What are you trying to say, Professor?"

"It – I'm so sorry, my boy - Kissed you."

Harry couldn't quite grasp it. What was Dumbledore saying? It was impossible, right? "Shouldn't I be, er, soulless then?"

"Theoretically, yes. But something unusual happened."

Harry snorted. "The story of my life." Snape gave him a glare for interrupting the Headmaster, so he added: "I'm sorry Professor, please go on."

"We don't know what you did, Harry, but we do know the Dementor disappeared right in front of you, and upon approaching you, we could still feel its effects. You were – and still are – spreading the same influence a Dementor does. Which is why only someone with strong Occlumency barriers can enter this room.

I believe you have somehow merged with the Dementor, thus absorbing its powers. When you woke..." Dumbledore gasped. "I'm sorry, Harry, I must leave now. Professor Snape will tell you the rest." He hurried outside.

Harry stared at Dumbledore's retreat. It was all a lot to take in, and he was feeling rather panicked. Was he destined to remain the rest of his life in this room, so as not to hurt anyone? "Can't I turn it off?"

"Not unless you work on it," Snape spoke up, his tones crisp and as cold as Harry felt. "The Headmaster believes learning Occlumency might help you. Take this more seriously than last year, Potter. We haven't got another mut for you to get killed."

Harry balled his fists. "Don't talk about Sirius like that!" He could nearly feel his own anger, rolling through the room like silent thunder. It seemed to affect Snape, who snarled and pressed a hand against his head. "Keep that up, Potter, and I'll leave without telling you anything."

Harry tried to calm down, and after a few deep breaths he nodded to Snape. "Fine, _sir_. Why am I restrained?"

"You were mad when you woke up. Your... _aura_, by lack of a better term, flared even more and you kept trying to escape by floating through the window. We caught you before you could harm anyone – including yourself."

"Well I'm fine now, so if you could at least let me sit straight –"

Snape smirked. "I don't think I will. I prefer you to remain where you are. Who knows how dangerous you still are."

"What?" Harry glared at him. "What if I need to go to the bathroom?"

"That isn't my problem." With those words, Snape left the room. Harry heard several locks closing.

He sighed, and tried to figure out how he felt about all of this.

Horror was a part of it. Disgust too. The idea to be actually Kissed by a Dementor... And worse, actually being _turned _into his own greatest fear.

And there was worry. Would he manage to tone down his 'aura' enough to live a normal life? Well, normal for him, at least... Would his friends still like him? And Dumbledore, would he still let him attend Hogwarts?

It all seemed so... _surreal_. As if it was all just a bad dream. He didn't feel like a Dementor. And as far as he could see from the toes sticking out from under the thick blanket, he still didn't have any gray, scaly skin.

He just felt so _cold_...

:-:-:

_**August 3rd 1996 –evening**_

Harry had spend the long, boring afternoon lying on his bed – not that he had much choice in this, mind – and trying to amuse himself by counting all the cracks in the ceiling. In the meanwhile he thought about his predicament, and had come to the conclusion it was all a lot of rubbish. If he'd really been Kissed, he would be imitating a vegetable by now, right? And he didn't feel any different, or look any different, as far as he could tell without a mirror. Perhaps it was all some kind of joke. Dumbledore who wanted to get even for Harry wrecking his office at the end of last school year. Or perhaps the Death Eaters had captured him and were attempting to make him go crazy. (Harry admitted this wasn't very probable, because Voldemort wouldn't go through so much trouble for him when a few Crucio's would work as well, but it was still _possible_, right?)

When his boredom was disturbed by the sound of several locks being opened, he craned his neck to see the door. When it swung open to admit Madam Pomphrey, a gust of warm wind seemed to accompany her presence. Harry revelled in the warmth, that finally drove away the cold which had been haunting him since he woke.

Madam Pomphrey looked horrible. She was pale and shivering, and her lips were pressed tightly together. She put the tray with food on a small table near the door, and then turned to Harry. She had her wand in her hand. "_Libera."_ Harry's restraints loosened. Gratefully, he pulled his arms and legs from their bindings and sat up straight. "Madame Pomphrey, why-"

"_Ex- ex... Expecto Patronum_." The silvery shape of a cat jumped from the tip of her wand. It approached Harry, and hissed menacingly.

Harry suddenly found himself in the corner farthest away from the patronus, with a strange fear twisting in his stomach and an uncomfortable feeling, like pinpricks, all over his body. The warmth he had felt had disappeared when the Charm was cast, and together with the slight pain of the 'pinpricks' the cold had returned.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," he heard Madame Pomphrey's voice. He didn't dare to look up, completely fixated as he was by the silvery cat and those odd feelings. "I needed to talk with you and this is the only way I can without being overpowered by your aura. My Occlumency training is flimsy at best. I need to examine you, to see how much you've changed, but I can't come near you. That is why Profesor Snape will be your Healer for a while – at least, until you've mastered your new... talents, and I can examine you properly. I've put some food on the table, if there's something wrong you can alarm me or Professor Snape by touching the mirror I put next to your plate and saying his or my name." She took a deep breath. "Good luck with controlling this, Mr. Potter."

She left the room. As soon as the door fell closed, the patronus faded away.

Harry took a shaky breath. The cold remained, but at least the pain was gone. An icy realisation took shape in his skull.

The way he'd felt when the Patronus Charm was cast... The way he reacted...

"Oh god. It isn't a joke. It isn't, it isn't, it isn't..."

He had _really_ absorbed part of a Dementor.

Harry did the only thing he could do in this situation. He closed his eyes, and _screamed._

:-:-:


	2. Messing With His Mind

_Summary: **An 'accident' concerning a Dementor changes Harry's life. After OotP, non HBP-compliant.**_

_Disclaimer: JK Rowlings owns Harry Potter. I got the idea for this fic after reading 'Darkness Unleashed' by __MadnessPersonified_

**Not Just A Kiss: Chapter 2: Messing With His Mind**

:-:

_The unearthly scream travelled through the ancient hallways of Hogwarts, heedless of closed doors or silencing charms, the utter _emotion _in it strong enough to make portraits shiver. Ghosts hid themselves behind tapestries, armours dropped their weapons to press their iron gloves against their helmet, and in the Forbidden Forest animals silenced in fear. Even in Hogsmeade the scream hung in the air, thin and not noticable with mortal ears, but present in the shape of an uneasy feeling that crawled down everyone's spine and made them glance up at Hogwarts' castle._

_In his chambers, Headmaster Dumbledore listened to the sorrowful scream and shook his head sadly._

:-:

_**August 3rd 1996 –evening**_

After screaming his throat raw Harry had burrowed into the bed, attempting not to think about the mess his life had become by arranging the blankets around him. It wasn't a good distraction, because no matter what he did the cold remained, and it didn't manage to take his mind of things.

A tear slid down his cheek, freezing slowly on the way down.

Why did it always have to be _him?_ Couldn't Voldemort have picked another bloke? Surely then this wouldn't have happened, his parents would still live, he wouldn't be important enough to be send Dementors, he wouldn't have been Kissed, he wouldn't have become... _this_...

Normally, Harry wouldn't wish his fate on anyone, but right now he begged to wake up in a world where Voldemort had picked Neville, where all this wouldn't have happened, or at least not to _him_...

If only he hadn't gone to the park that day...

There was a soft knock on his door. Without looking up, Harry screamed "Go away!"

The door swung open. Harry ignored the footsteps stubbornly, and buried his face in his pillow. He didn't want anyone to see him crying, he didn't want anyone to talk to him, he just wanted everything to go away...

A weight settled on his bed. Someone had just sat down on it, soemone who softly touched Harry's hair. "Hush, my boy. I know it's unfair, that everything seems to happen to you."

Harry didn't manage to hold back his sobs. He'd had enough, this was the straw that broke the camel's back, the final injustice of his life that broke the dam on his tears. He had managed to keep from crying for years, thanks to the Dursleys, but now... It was too much.

The man pulled him in a sitting position and wrapped his arms around the cold, shaking teenager. "Hush... Just let it out, you'll feel better toworrow..."

It was his Headmaster, the man he'd been so angry with last year, who placed him with the Dursleys and whom he really didn't know that well... But right now that didn't matter. It didn't even matter that if he closed his eyes, he could imagine the wrinkly arms belonged to the grandfather he'd never known. No, the only thing what really mattered, as tear after frozen tear trickled down his cheeks, was that he wasn't alone right now.

:-:

_**August 4th 1996 – early morning**_

Harry woke the following morning with a start. He vaguely remembered the Headmaster leaving last evening when his Occlumency shields were failing, and how he fell asleep after that. His pillow was still a bit moist from his tears, which had melted during his sleep. Harry threw his legs out of his bed and tried to think rationally.

It wasn't easy. The horror of what he had become, the memory of the patronus, it nearly dragged him back into the little corner of his mind where fresh tears were waiting to be spilled. He decided he needed a shower, to take his mind off things.

Slowly he stood, and walked towards the small table near the door. He could see the dinner Madame Pomphrey had brought him yesterday. It was – or rather, had been – hot soup. Now it was yellow water with soggy vegetables in it. Harry felt a bit of regret he hadn't eaten it. He was a bit hungry now, and perhaps the soup would have chased the cold away...

Next to the plate lay a small mirror. Harry took it, and studied his reflection for a moment.

He didn't look any different. Perhaps a bit paler, with tired shadows under his eyes, but that was probably from lack of sleep. His hair was the same mess as ever, and his green eyes were still in desperate need of glasses.

That reminded him: where were his glasses? He hadn't seen them since the... _incident_.

He debated a moment who he would call with the mirror, Pomphrey or Snape, but it really wasn't much of a dilemma.

"Madame Pomphrey?"

The mirror flickered, and an image of the school nurse appeared in it. "Yes, Harry? Is there something wrong?"

"No not really, but could you please tell me where I can find a bathroom and a shower? And could you please tell me what happened to my glasses?"

"I'm afraid those were broken. The Headmaster has ordered new one to be made, they can arrive any time, and Professor Snape will probably bring them when he visits you."

"Oh."

"There's a bathroom next to your room, the Headmaster has arranged for a way for you acces it without having to use the hallway. Just tap the wall left of this door three times, and a doorway will appear. The usual entrance to this bathroom is locked, so you don't have to worry about someone disturbing you."

Harry nodded. "Thanks. How do I shut off this mirror?"

"Simply put it down."

"Okay. Goodbye, Madame Pomphrey."

Harry put the mirror down and did as she'd told him. When the door to the bathroom appeared, he quickly undressed and stepped into the shower. He turned it on the warmest setting, which should have brought down scalding hot water on his freezing body. It probably did – the downside was, Harry didn't feel it. The amount of steam was proof of the warmth of the water, but the drops that reached Harry's skin were as freezing as he was.

Harry closed his eyes. He felt as emotionally stable as a thunderstorm, and this wasn't helping.

After showering he brushed his teeth, declared his hair no more a mess than usual, and found some clothes in one of the cupboards. In plain black robes and with enough socks to make Dobby happy for a year, he finally re-entered his room.

A tiny sliver of warmth curled around him, to disappear almost immediately. He saw Snape sitting on a chair that he'd probably summoned from somewhere. The Potions Master had a hand pressed against his temple. "Quit it," he hissed.

Harry, wanting to feel that warmth again, approached him. Together with his anger for Snape was this desire enough for him not to notice the way he moved, the soundless gliding over the floor.

Snape whipped his head around, and fixed Harry with an upper-level glare. "I said, _stop_ it."

The words managed to wake Harry from the odd daze he'd been experiencing. "I don't know how," he spat.

"Rubbish! It wasn't this bad yesterday, which means you're _intentionally-_"

"_I'm_ _not doing anything!_" Like the day before, Harry could nearly feel his anger filling the room. The result was a slight increase in temperature, which Harry was grateful for. Snape however gasped, and pulled his wand. "_Expecto Patronum!"_

Snape's patronus glowed so brightly Harry couldn't make out the form – Snape had obviously put a lot of power behind his spell. Not that Harry could think clearly at the moment – again, he found himself as far away from the silvery light as was possible, and he closed his eyes against the unbearable brightness. The pinpricks had returned, but a lot stronger than the day before, and Harry tried to crawl even further away, tormented by the loss of the warmth, so close, yet unreachable.

It seemed to take ages before the patronus faded. Harry looked up, to see that Snape was still there. "Stay there," he barked, when Harry made a move to get up. He obeyed, and wearily watched Snape's wand. He felt drained, tired enough to sleep for a day. He was cold again.

Snape had become even paler, and didn't move his wand from Harry. "We'll start with your Occlumency now. I don't want to stay any longer in your presence than is necessary, boy."

Harry refused to give in. Besides, he was hungry. "I haven't had breakfast yet."

"I'd say you have."

Harry frowned. "No, I haven't."

Snape smiled nastily. "Yes, you have. Don't you know, Potter? Dementors feed on emotions, and you just grabbed yourself some breakfast, in a way. If I hadn't defended myself, who knows what you might have done to me..."

"I'm not a Dementor," Harry replied, softly. He couldn't quite meet Snape's eyes when he said that.

Snape smirked unpleasantly. "But you are. Or did you cower in front of the nice little patronus because you have bufonophobia, Potter?"

Harry fell silent. He loathed Snape, but at the moment he loathed himself more. What he had become.

The Potions Master righted himself. "Clear your mind, Potter."

"Wait. Madame Pomphrey said you'd have new glasses for me."

" 'For me, _sir.'_ " Snape corrected. "But as a matter of fact, I do have your new glasses. And you'll get them when you've mastered Occlumency enough for me to drop my extra defences. Clear your mind. _Legilimens_!"

Harry closed his eyes, attempting to feel Snape's presence in it. For a moment, he did notice something he could only descibe as a fleck of heat pushing through the ice of his mind, and he concentrated on it. Without knowing how, he leeched its warmth and saw it starting to freeze slowly.

Snape screamed in pain, and his presence in Harry's head pulled out. When Harry opened his eyes Snape was glaring daggers at him, still shivering and breathing irregularly.

"That wasn't Occlumency," he hissed. "Can't you do _anything_ right, Potter? Just like your idiot father, never managing -"

"I advise you to _shut up_ now, _sir_," Harry interrupted him, his anger growing again. "You're not helping me control myself. More the reverse, actually."

Against all probability, Snape did fall silent. He narrowed his eyes to Harry, and the turned around. "I'll see you tomorrow. I'll need to discuss what happened today with the Headmaster. It may take a while to find another way to instruct you in Occlumency."

"Wait. What about my glasses? And breakfast?" Harry asked quickly, but Snape had already closed the door behind him.

:-:-:


	3. Meditation

_Summary: **An 'accident' concerning a Dementor changes Harry's life. After OotP, non HBP-compliant.**_

_Disclaimer: JK Rowlings owns Harry Potter. I got the idea for this fic after reading 'Darkness Unleashed' by __MadnessPersonified_

**Not Just A Kiss: Chapter 3: Meditation**

:-:

_**August 4th 1996 –morning**_

After Snape had left, Harry was yet again doomed to hours of boredom, only interrupted by the arrival of breakfast. It was a shifty looking House Elf who popped into the room, changed the tray with cold soup for another one, and popped away again, all the while giving Harry fearful looks.

Harry sighed at the behaviour of the House Elf and inspected the tray. There was toast, strawberry jam, and some cereals, together with pumpkin juice and – surprisingly – hot coffee. Harry didn't usually have coffee but knew from experience (namely Hermione) that some people couldn't start their day without their cup. He carefully eyed the dark beverage and took a sip.

Bitter, and hot, the taste making Harry grimace but the heat a momentary reprieve from the cold that haunted him. A very short reprieve, lasting only a few seconds, but enough to make Harry smile. He took another sip, deciding the taste wasn't that bad, if you got used to it. Mmm, caffeine…

He was relieved to notice he could still have normal food. For a moment he had feared Snape would be right, and he would have to haunt prison cells for the rest of his life...

It was another House Elf who came to fetch the empty tray, one with at least five woollen hats and many scarves. He mostly resembled a walking mountain of wool. Harry didn't have to think long to recognize him.

"Dobby?"

The House Elf turned, and between two colourful scarves a mouth became visible. It formed into a shaky grin. "Mr. Harry Potter sir. Can Dobby help you, Harry Potter sir?"

Harry noticed the temperature slowly rising. He smiled at Dobby. "Could you please fetch me some books? Something on Dementors would be nice, but if you can't find any, anything else is also okay."

Dobby bowed, and hurriedly popped away. A few minutes later he returned with at least twenty books, which he dropped on the empty table. "A-anything else that Dobby can do, Harry Potter sir?"

"No, thank you, Dobby. Are you alright? You look a bit pale."

"D-dobby's fine, Harry Potter sir. If Harry Potter wants something, just ask for Dobby." He left again, as did the nice warmth Harry had been feeling.

Harry admitted he wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box, but there was something odd with that warmth he felt when people were nearby. Except for Snape, and Dumbledore...

Oh, no. Now he understood...

:-:

_**August 4th 1996 – noon**_

Harry busied himself with reading those books until lunch arrived. There wasn't much else to do.

Most of the books concerning Dementors seemed to go about the notorious Kiss – there were entire lists of names, all people who had been sentenced to the Kiss after they committed a crime heinously enough. One of the books even added the – often gruesome – details of their crimes.

It was useless. Nobody appeared to be interested in writing down what had happened _after_ the Kiss was administered. Sure, they sometimes said where the soulless husk had been deposited. But there was _nowhere anything_ about people retaining their souls, or merging with the Dementor. If something like this had happened before, surely _someone_ would have written it down, right?

Harry stabbed his steak, frustrated. His annoyance became even worse when a few minutes later someone knocked on his door. Harry looked up from his meal, narrowing his eyes. If it was Snape again... He hissed dangerously, unaware he was doing it.

It wasn't Snape, fortunately. (For Snape, that is.) It was Dumbledore, dressed in a cheery purple robe. He smiled at Harry, and put the books he was carrying next to the other stacks. "I see you have found a way to keep busy, Harry. How are you?"

Harry felt a bit embaressed. Last night he had been crying like a baby in his Headmaster's arms – it was odd to face the man now, remembering that...

His appetite vanished at the memory of the previous night. He put down his fork and shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I just wish things were different, sir. And those books aren't useful at all."

"True," Dumbledore admitted. "There is precious few information about Dementors, and even then we cannot be sure how much of it applies to you in particular." He conjured himself a small sofa, and sat down. "I have heard you have some trouble with Occlumency."

Harry sighed. "In a way. Snape –"

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry."

"Yes, him, sir. He couldn't get into my mind, so I guess Occlumency is just different for me, but that's not... it's just..." He couldn't find the right words. It would probably have helped if he knew what he was trying to say. "The problem," he finally said, "is not keeping others out of my mind. It's keeping my own mind from getting to other's." The words clicked into place and he realized what he said was true. He didn't know how he knew it. He just did.

"Yes, I came to that conclusion too, after hearing what happened to Professor Snape," Dumbledore agreed. "That is why I have brought you these books on different meditation techniques. I suggest you read them, and see if they are of any help."

"Thank you, sir," Harry sighed. His captivity promised to be long, and filled with learning and reading. Oh joy.

He acutely missed his Firebolt.

Professor Dumbledore was paling again, his eyes glazing a bit. Harry felt the trickle of warmth, and came to the conclusion the Headmaster's shields had cracked again.

He tried to keep these new, unwanted powers in check. He really did.

It made no difference.

Dumbledore left the room, leaving Harry to his cold lunch and the mountain of books to be read.

:-:

_**August 8th 1996 – early afternoon**_

Harry had spend the last few days reading, occasionally pausing to eat or sleep. He had discovered he didn't need much sleep, a few hours a day sufficed. It gave him more time to learn the meditation techniques, so that was a plus.

His only visitors in those three days had been Dobby, who brought him his food. Harry had settled into a boring scedule of sleeping, eating, reading, eating, reading, eating, reading and sleeping again.

He was just trying the meditation exercise from one of the books when he finally got a visitor again. That was the good news.

The bad news: it was Snape.

The Potions Master slammed the door shut behind him and faced Harry. "Get up, Potter."

Harry ignored him, and kept concentrating on his steady breathing. He would not let Snape disrupt his calm!

The greasy git was saying something, but Harry had tuned him out and was focusing on the exercise. It was a magical kind of meditation – you also had a Muggle alternative – and, if Harry did the exercise right, he would find himself –

... in his mind. Steel and icicles and razor-edged corners. He could not see, - because there was nothing to see, it was all literally in his head – but he did _feel_. He stood in the middle of his mind, at his calm centre, and mentally surveyed his surroundings. Cold, and sharp. It was his own mind, but he didn't recognize it.

Standing at the core of his being, he sensed something, a freezing wave that flowed from his magic and came back with a mere hint of warmth. Harry focused on that wave, attempting to reign it in.

After all, it wasn't easy to go into deep meditation like this. He doubted he could manage it a second time without more training, so he'd better use the opportunity.

The coldness was difficult to keep in check. Harry didn't know how long he'd been trying to stop it from escaping, but when he finally managed it he felt as if he'd been mauled by a dragon.

No, that would probably have felt better. That was purely physical. The matters of the mind were more troublesome to control...

He felt secure enough to open his eyes, leaving his meditation for what it was.

Snape was glaring at him. "Have you ever heard of the concept "paying attention", Potter? I thought not. Did you even hear a word what I said? Just like your father, in every single way - and I see you've finally stopped hammering on my Occlumency shields. Did it get through your thick skull you were never getting in? Even as a monstrous half-breed you can't -"

"Enough." Harry's voice shook. From anger, and the strain of keeping the dark, _hungry_ flow of magic bound.

Snape lifted a brow. "Is that a way to talk to your betters, boy?" Without asking, he took Harry's arm and put a needle in it. Harry closed his eyes. The feeling of blood being pulled from his veins was exceptionally unpleasant.

"The Headmaster has requested this for analyzing. He still hopes to find a cure to your... condition" An ungly sneer. "Though I do wonder why he even bothers."

The needle, the insults, the strain on his mind – it all became to much for Harry. With a soft cry, he lost control of the hungry magic, and felt it filling the room again.

Snape just put the needle away. He was the only living creature in this room, Harry's senses told him. He would do.

The young wizard knew he had lost control completely. A part of him was clouded, another part came forward – no, _glided_ forward, to Snape, seeking warmth, _desiring_ it, so_ hungry_ for it...

He pressed down, felt something crack and give way...

Heat flooded Harry. He sighed in bliss, taking it all in, prodding the soft human mind for more...

Pain! White-hot light flooded his senses, pinpricks the force of stabbing knives, and he was falling, freezing, fading...

Darkness. Then – nothingness.

:-:-:


	4. Letters and Improvements

_Summary: **An 'accident' concerning a Dementor changes Harry's life. After OotP, non HBP-compliant.**_

_Disclaimer: JK Rowlings owns Harry Potter. _

**Not Just A Kiss: Chapter 4: Letters and Improvements**

_**August 9th 1996 – morning**_

Harry woke with a killer headache. Still in a daze, he lifted a hand to rub his poor, aching head – only to find he was restrained again. Great. He just _loved_ being strapped to the bed. And he needed to use the bathroom, too.

"Ah, you are awake."

No, really?

The familiar voice went on: "Are you aware, my boy? Harry? Can you answer me?"

"Mmphf," he groaned, opening his eyes. Something blurry and yellow sat next to his bed, probably looking at him. It had little blue dots on it.

It reached over to him and put Harry's glasses on his nose. The Gryffindor found he was staring at Professor Dumbledore's robes, a truly horrifying sight.

"Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled. He seemed relieved. "Welcome back, Harry."

"Where'd I go?" Harry asked, not really sure what happened.

"I'm afraid you lost control for a moment, Harry. You attacked Professor Snape. It was a lucky thing Professor Snape managed to press the alarm." His smile became sad. "I'm afraid my Patronus was a bit too powerful for you."

"Oh." Harry blinked. The call of nature was more of a scream now. "Could you please get me out of these?" he asked, looking at the restraints. "I, er- I'd like to use the bathroom."

"Of course." He waved his wand.

Harry got out of the bed and hurriedly went to the bathroom. When he returned to his room, he saw breakfast had arrived.

He wasn't all that hungry, but some cereals were always welcome. For a few minutes the only sound in the room was his spoon clinking against the bowl.

"Professor Snape should be fully recovered by tomorrow," Dumbledore answered Harry's unasked question. Not that Harry was all that interested in the answer, but still, his lack of hunger had worried him a little. "Though I doubt he will set a foot in this room again."

"Oh." Harry diverted his eyes. He couldn't bear looking in those kind blue ones. The disappointment in them was too painful.

"Would you please tell me what happened from your point of view, Harry? I'm afraid Professor Snape wasn't very talkative when I last saw him."

Harry was silent for a moment. "He interrupted me in the middle of my meditation exercises. I finally managed to go into a trance. I thinkit really was working, but then he had that needle and I, I just lost it. I'm sorry Professor." Not for hurting Snape. No, the bastard deserved everything he got. He was sorry for disappointing Dumbledore.

"I see." Another silence, broken by: "Hm. Do you believe you are able to go back into trance?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Shall I try?"

"Please."

Harry closed his eyes and went through all the techniques he'd learned. He barely noticed of any time passing before he became aware of the freezing wave his magical core emitted. He didn't manage to get as deep as his actual mind this time, but at least he felt the cold magic he leaked into the room.

Oh! A speck of warmth – Dumbledore's Occlumency shields were starting to crack. Harry attempted to reign in the magic like last time, but it was of no use. He could only slighten its effects a little.

"It's a start," Dumbledore said softly. "I will leave now. Keep practising, Harry. You're already making progress, and that's a good thing."

:-:

**August 9th – noon**

Harry was in the middle of a complicated meditation technique when he noticed the sudden flare of warmth, not quite the same as the one he got from Dumbledore or Snape. He opened his eyes, seeing a shivering Dobby. The House Elf didn't speak, but smiled faintly and put a tray down before he popped away again.

The familiar cold returned. He'd like to think he was getting used to it, but his dinner still tended to cool before he managed to take a bite, so it hadn't improved much. The meditation was helping, though. It was getting easier to 'see' the cold magic he emitted, so hopefully he'd be able to control it without having to go into a deep trance each time.

He reached out for the cup of coffee, oddly enough one of the few things that didn't cool down as soon as he approached. Maybe it was enchanted to remain hot. Whatever the cause, it was a glorious reprieve from the bitter cold.

There were also letters on the tray. Surprised, Harry took one of them.

_Dear Harry,_ it read, in Hermione's handwriting.

_Are you alright? We heard something happened and you're in Hogwarts now, but Headmaster Dumbledore hasn't told anything specific, not even to the Order. There's all kinds of rumours flying around, from a Death Eater attack to one where you're turned into a werewolf and ate your cousin._

_If you're really a werewolf, I want you to know we'll be there for you, whatever happened. We're your friends, Harry. You can trust us. Besides, Lupin manages very well, so I'm sure you can also. _

_Now you're at Hogwarts you have the excellent opportunity to prepare for the next school year. The O.W.L.s are coming up, and it's never too early to study._

_Take care, Harry._

_Hermione_

Harry snorted. A werewolf? If only... It would be much easier. At least he wouldn't be alone, and he'd be able to come out in public for the biggest part of the month.

Ron's letter was slightly different.

_Hiya Harry! _

_How are you? Did you really eat your cousin? 'Cause if you did, we don't blame you, really. Everyone here believes you're a werewolf, especially since Dumbledore asked Snape to make an extra dose of Wolfsbane Potion. Is it true, Harry? It's not too big a deal, after all, we all know Lupin, he's an alright guy._

_Why can't we come and see you? Mum's frantic because Dumbledore doesn't want to let us visit, and you know how Mum can be. It's a madhouse here! Honestly, we're worried about you mate. The full moon was six days ago, you should be fine by now, right?_

_Write back and let us know,_

_Ron_

_P.S.: If the twins send you something, don't eat it. They've been experimenting again, I'm still losing pink feathers._

Harry smiled faintly. He spotted an inkwell, some empty parchments and a quill on the tray, and took the latter in his hand. The ink froze slightly when he dipped the quill in it.

_Ron, Hermione,_

_I don't know how much I should tell you, if Dumbledore's so secretive about it, but first of all: I'm not a werewolf. Yes, I was attacked by something, but no, before you ask, it wasn't a vampire either. I wish it was._

_It's very difficult for me right now, so I really can't see anyone. Sorry. Hopefully I manage controlling myself soon, so that if I won't be expelled I'll see you guys at Hogwarts._

_For the record: no, I didn't eat Dudley. I didn't eat anyone. Well, not exactly, I think. I'll explain everything, just not yet. _

_Don't worry,_

_Harry_

He wasn't too happy about the letter, but he didn't know what else to write. He had no idea how they would take the news... Ron had been scared of Lupin when he first found out, and this was a hundred times worse. At least werewolves were only dangerous once a month.

With a sigh he took the empty envelope on the tray and put the letter inside. After adressing it he finished his lunch and went back to his meditation. He needed to succeed. If not for himself, then for his friends.

:-:

**August 12th – Evening**

Harry didn't stop his exercise when he noticed someone had entered his room. His visitor didn't disturb him, he just waited and watched. Harry took a deep breath.

In the last few days he'd managed to tone down the cold magic until it was barely noticeble. He was still cold, but he managed to keep himself from leeching too much warmth. After about half an hour he had to rest, and entirely stopping it he still couldn't, but it was more than a start.

When he opened his eyes, Dumbledore was smiling.

"Congratulations, Harry. You've improved a lot in only a few days."

Having nothing else to do had been a good motivation to practise.

Harry grinned. "Thank you, Professor." He was sick of being locked inside. This room, no matter how comfy, was still a prison.

Dumbledore seemed to guess his thoughts. "If you manage to keep this up for a longer duration, I think we can safely decide you're ready to leave this room. For short periods at first, but in time permanently, I'd say."

It was nice to get good news for a change.

:-:

Dumbledore had left him some time ago, and the sun had set. Harry was staring out the window. He'd tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. How nice it would have been to feel the breeze...

The Forbidden Forest glowed in the faint moonlight. There weren't any clouds, so the light of the stars illuminated the castle and its grounds, making everything look as if it stepped out of a fairytale. It was a perfect night to fly.

He'd had these ugly powers for twelve days now, nine of which he'd been awake. All this time he'd tried to keep them contained, but there was something about the beautiful night that made him restless. He wanted to go outside.

He blinked. Did something move, at the edge of the Forest? He'd swear he saw a dark shape there for a moment... Death Eaters?

Perhaps not. It might just be a Thestral or some other forest creature. Hogwarts was one of the few places Voldemort feared, now Dumbledore was near.

He concentrated on the spot he saw the movement until his eyes watered. If it were Death Eaters, he'd need to warn Dumbledore immediately.

There! It was a humanoid shape, yes, but it barely moved. It just stood there. Voldemort's spies?

An odd feeling came over Harry. Not warmth, but a different kind of cold. It touched his skin for a moment, and slid back outside. Harry found himself longing to follow the sensation. He needed to go! Now!

Without knowing how he was floathing to the window. It still resisted any attempts to open it. Frustration gripped Harry. He had to go outside! They were calling him, he had to go, now, _**now!**_

Frost was forming on the walls of his room. He only noticed the alarm going off when Dumbledore burst into the room with his wand at the ready. He started casting spells immediately, spells which unfroze the walls and made them glow a protective purple. Through he window, Harry could see shapes coming from the castle and running towards the dark silhouette near the Forest. Glowing white spells sprung from their wands. The creature fled and disappeared soon.

The need to go outside went away too. Harry sagged, suddenly too tired to move. Why did he feel so lonely all of a sudden?

"S'rry, Prof'sor" he mumbled, while hands helped him into the bed. He was asleep before he could hear a reply.

:-:

_**A/N: why does Harry keep fainting? He's annoying me... Anyway, sorry for the long wait. I had half this chapter ready some time ago, but wanted to finish Innocence first. The last chapter of Innocence is hell to write, honestly. I just can't get the bloody battle scene right. So I decided to finish this chapter first. I hope it's not too bad :-p Thank you all for reviewing!**_


	5. Freedom

_Summary: **An 'accident' concerning a Dementor changes Harry's life. After OotP, non HBP-compliant.**_

_Disclaimer: JK Rowlings owns Harry Potter. _

**Not Just A Kiss: Chapter 5: Freedom**

**_August 20th 1996 – morning_**

A week had passed. He had done nothing but study, and he was now confident he could tone down his peculiar form of magic for at least twelve hours, which should be enough for now.

Since the visit of the Dementor – because that had been the dark shape at the edge of the Forest – Harry felt more locked up than ever. He needed to go outside or he'd go mad.

The time finally came. Dumbledore decided Harry could spend the day out of his rooms, but he had to stay nearby, in case something happened.

Harry had just finished preparing himself by going trough his meditation exercises when Dumbledore opened his door. Harry eagerly jumped from his seat. "Can I -"

His Headmaster had to laugh. "Yes, you can go. But remember: try to stay away from people, just in case, and don't leave the grounds. We do not think the Dementor would return for you in broad daylight, but there are other things hunting you, my boy."

Harry nodded. He'd already heard all this the other day. At first Dumbledore had forbidden him to leave the castle, but luckily Harry had been able to convince him. He really needed the fresh air...

"Just a moment, Harry." The Headmaster reached into his robes, taking out a wand. More precisely, _Harry's_ wand.

Harry stared at it. He hadn't even thought about it, to be true. Since no one had mentioned it, he'd half expected it to have been broken during... his _change_.

Harry took it, and felt a slight, familiar warmth go through him. A smile appeared on his face. He was a wizard again.

"Thank you," he said, very softly.

"You're welcome," was Dumbledore's reaction. "I do hope you use it responsibly, Harry. After all, here at Hogwarts there's so much background magic, the Ministry wouldn't notice any breaches of the Underage Restriction." His eyes twinkled.

Harry could only smile and nod. He carefully put his wand away. Then, with his Firebolt in his hand, he fled his room.

:-:

Flying was amazing. The moment he took off he felt refreshed and a lot better. He was still cold, but keeping the powers in check helped a little bit with that too. Not a lot, but enough to decide that he could live with it. He wasn't going to use his power, not if he could help it.

The wind ruffled his hair, but failed to make him any colder than he already was. It was amazing... At least three hundred metres of sky between him and the ground, the clouds above him, the wind in his face...

He closed his eyes, enjoying it all.

Freedom. At last. Almost a month of being cooped up in one room, without any of friends to talk too... Now that nightmare was over. He could imagine the cold came from the wind, and it was as if the Dementor attack had never happened, he was still normal, still _human_, and everything was alright...

When he was on his broom everything seemed so simple. It was just him and the sky, no worries, no problems... This was true freedom. He nearly felt as if he was drifting away...

Wait. He couldn't feel his broom any more.

He opened his eyes and made a strangled noise.

He was floating. He had no idea how he did it, but he did know that his broom was several metres away, and on a course that would make it crash in the Forbidden Forest.

His Firebolt!

_Sirius..._

Instincts he didn't know he had surfaced, and he found himself flying through the air, one arm outstretched as if he was trying to catch the Snitch...

Pure desperation speeded him up. He couldn't bare to lose this memory of Sirius, his godfather's first gift...

He managed to grab the broom a few seconds before it disappeared beneath the thick branches. Relief coursed though him, but another problem quickly came up: how did he stop? He was still flying with a terrible speed and in a few moments -

CRASH.

Branches whipped him in the face on his way down. He kept his Firebolt close against his body, hoping against hope it wouldn't break when he landed...

Apparently he was due a bit of luck. Or not, depending on the way you looked at it.

He landed in a pond, the muddy green water splashing all around him. After a small fight with his robes he managed to come to the surface, immediately checking his broom. It was still mostly whole, but the bristles were one big disaster. Those made the broom able to be steered. Flying back was no option. And he sure wasn't going to try to fly without a broom, not right now, anyway. Not when there was so much opportunity to crash in prickly shrubs.

He made his way to the edge of the pond and crawled out. What an adventure... He'd never expected to be able to fly like that!

But thoughts about this unexpected surprise had to wait. He was quite deep inside the Forest, had no idea which direction Hogwarts lay, and there wasn't a path in sight.

Though the sun was still high in the sky, this was still the Forbidden Forest. Not _all_ of its dangerous inhabitants only came out at night.

He took out his wand, just to be sure.

A drying spell later he was a lot more comfortable, and he put his wand on an outstretched hand. "Point me Hogwarts."

Well, that helped. From the slow turning of the tip he concluded it was a long walk, but at least he knew which direction to go, now.

After what had to be at least an hour – he'd left his watch on the bedside table, stupid, _stupid!_ - he reached something that looked like a clearing.

Three Centaurs were readying their bows for a hunt. Harry peered through the trees, and saw something that resembled a village. A lot more Centaurs were there.

Harry swallowed and decided to see if he could walk around the clearing without being noticed, but it was already too late for that.

"_Intruder!" _one of the three Centaurs yelled, and Harry froze. He would have liked to run away, but the presence of three pointy arrowheads prevented this. Their bows were ready, apparently.

From the direction of the village, hoofbeats could be heard.

"I am just lost, I need to go back to Hogwarts," he tried to reason. The closest Centaur snorted angrily. "Be quiet, foul creature!"

Harry felt a pang of sadness. Would it always be like this? Would every non-human being immediately sense what he had been turned into?

"I'm just lost," he attempted again, to no avail. The other Centaurs were getting closer. If he didn't hurry, the amount of arrows pointing at him would be a lot bigger.

If he moved, even a little, they would shoot him. That much was obvious from the way they looked at him. He had to find another way, one that didn't require the wand that still lay flat on his hand, its tip towards Hogwarts.

There was always another way... would it work on Centaurs?

No! He had said not to use those anymore. Not now he could control them to an extent.

Was there another solution, then? He had to...

Harry took a shaky breath and loosened his control on his powers. The tree Centaurs paled simultaneously. One was effected badly enough to drop his bow, but the other two managed a wobbly shot at Harry, who hurriedly ducked out of the way. As a delicious warmth spread through his body he saw one Centaur, the one who was effected the worst, faint. The other two were reloading their bows with trembling hands.

Whoops! Time to leave!

He started running, the steady flow of warmth energizing him. He knew he couldn't beat hooves. They were closing in on him. This was their part of the Forest, they knew it better than he did...

"This would be a really good time for those flying powers to kick in," he muttered to himself, before he felt his feet losing contact with the ground. Cold, bony hands had grabbed his shoulders and were lifting him into the sky. Harry couldn't look up because of the glare of the sun, but he felt a special kind of cold being echo'd through his senses.

The angry sounds of the Centaurs beneath him slowly faded, as he was pulled in the direction of Hogwarts.

In a dark patch of the Forest, though not very far from Hogwarts grounds, Harry was lowered to the ground. The one who'd saved him landed in front of him.

It was a Dementor.

It stared at him, eyeless sockets just visible under the ragged hood.

Harry swallowed. Feeling another kind of cold echoing within his own was a very odd sensation. "Who – who are you?" he asked, to remember a moment later that they couldn't talk. Their mouth was just a hole in their face.

A shiver ran up his spine. For a moment, he could almost remember a mouth like that closing in on him and -

The memory faded. Harry blinked.

The Dementor was gone.

Harry looked around, but it was nowhere in sight. With some difficulty, he managed to regain control of his powers.

After a few tense minutes, Harry whispered: "Point me Hogwarts," and started walking again.

There was another clearing. Sunlight glittered off the river that winded through it.

Water. Harry hadn't known he was so thirsty, but the sight of the clear water was very welcome. He kneeled down to drink, hoping it wasn't polluted or something. There was probably a spell to check that, but if there was one he didn't know it.

He was just about to drink when he noticed a movement in the bushes on the other side of the river.

It was a unicorn foal. Its golden pelt was already becoming silver in some places, but its horn was sharp as any.

It eyed him a bit uncertainly. Then it trotted closer and drunk from the water, its horn touching the surface.

Now Harry could be sure the water was safe to drink. A unicorn horn purified any substance it came into contact with.

Not that Harry was thinking about that. He was staring in wonderment at the foal, amazed it dared to come so close to him. He was a dark creature now, an abomination, and yet a being so pure was calmly drinking across of him.

He forced away the tears that threathened. He had cried enough. It was time to be brave, now. He could control his power, a little at least, and it would become easier with time. He had to believe that. He could still have a normal life.

The foal looked up at him with gentle eyes, then turned and left the clearing.

Harry felt a smile appear on his lips.

He could do this. He could learn to live with what he had become.

The rest of his journey back to Hogwarts was uneventful, and the soft smile remained.

Everything would be alright.

:-:


	6. Friends?

_Summary: **An 'accident' concerning a Dementor changes Harry's life. After OotP, non HBP-compliant.**_

_Disclaimer: JK Rowlings owns Harry Potter. _

**Not Just A Kiss: Chapter 6: Friends?**

_**August 28**__**th**_ _**1996 – morning**_

Harry had been able to keep his powers in check for twenty hours straight, which meant he was allowed free reign of the castle. He had to return to his room – his prison – at night, where he could let go of his control for a bit, but the remainder of the time he was free.

This had been celebrated two days ago at the staff table. There were few of the staff remaining at Hogwarts during summer, but those who were felt sorry for Harry. With the exception of Snape, of course, who'd been avoiding him like the plague.

Harry had noticed he could only use his 'fun' powers – the flying, for instance – if he let go of his control. He didn't want to do that, afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself if he encountered someone, so the only upside to his... _condition_... was lost to him.

He hadn't told Dumbledore about the Dementor in the Forest. He knew he should, but... well, it was difficult. The Dementor had helped him, after all. Dumbledore would chase it away, and something inside Harry didn't like that thought. Besides, Harry was curious. He'd even thought about going back inside the Forest, but the memory of the Centaurs and their pointy arrows had extinguished that notion.

Now, August 28, was the day Harry had been dreading.

Dumbledore would take him to Diagon Alley.

Where Ron and Hermione would meet him.

:-:

Dumbledore decided they'd Floo to Diagon Alley. Harry was very careful to pronounce it exactly the way Dumbledore did, before he stepped into the green flames. He didn't want to end up at Borgin & Burkes again.

There was a moment between leaving Dumbledore's office and arriving at Diagon Alley, and during those few seconds Harry thought he could hear something... voices? There was someone talking to him, but he couldn't -

His... _condition_ hadn't improved his less-than-graceful landing. He would have landed flat on his face if Dumbledore hadn't grasped his arm and steadied him. His eyes twinkled.

Harry groaned silently. He really disliked the Floo.

He took a moment to look around. No matter how strong his control of his darker nature was, he could still sense the people nearby. It was staggering. All those little flecks of life and warmth...

"Harry!" A pair of arms folded around him when Hermione pulled him in a hug. He struggled a bit, surprised, and she let him go.

"You're cold," she said with a worried frown. "Are you ill? Is it because of what you couldn't tell us in your letter?" Her eyes went over him, looking for differences.

"We've been waiting for you to arrive, mate," Ron said, with a lopsided smile. "How are you?"

Before Harry could answer, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Well, Harry, I have my own business to conduct here. I'm sure you're in safe hands with your friends. Shall we meet again in, say, three hours, before Ollivander's? If there is any problem, go to him, he has a way to contact me quickly."

Harry nodded dumbly. Of course he wanted some time with his friends, and of course Dumbledore had other things to do than to baby-sit him, but still... He wasn't looking forward to telling his friends what he had become.

"Very good. I'll see you there, Harry." And then he was gone.

Harry swallowed.

Ron gave him a good-natured inspection. "You're still as graceful as ever with the Floo, so I guess: not Vampire. And you told us you weren't a Werewolf. So, what's your news? And how can you 'not exactly' eat someone?" He lowered his voice a bit. "Have you been turned into a girl or something?"

"Ron!" Hermione admonished him.

Ron shrugged. "What? It happens!"

"Girls don't eat people, Ronald."

"When you're in a bad mood you sure can bite our heads off."

"Why, I never -"

Harry couldn't help it, he had to smile. "No Ron, I haven't been turned into a girl."

Hermione frowned at him. "Why are you so nervous of telling us, Harry? It can't be something dangerous, because Dumbledore took you here, a public place. You can trust us."

Harry's heart hammered in his chest. "If I tell you, you'll keep it quiet, right? Please? Even if... even if you don't want to see me any more?"

They started protesting that it couldn't be that bad, but Harry interrupted them.

"Please, just promise me."

Hermione sighed. "Very well, I promise."

"Me too," Ron agreed.

Harry led them a bit out of the way, far enough from prying ears to not be overheard. Then he took a deep breath.

"I've been attacked by a Dementor."

"Like last year? Umbridge sent some more? But how?"

Harry shook his head. "Not like last year, not exactly. We still don't know if it was send of not, or why it all happened, but... It Kissed me. And I survived."

A short, stunned pause, until Harry said, very softly: "The Dementor didn't."

He tried to find the words to describe what happened, what he now was. "It- it left some of its essence behind, in me, or something like that, and since then I've had some.. urges, but I've been practising control and everything is getting better, I can keep it locked away for twenty hours straight now."

Silence. Around them, Diagon Alley bustled with people, with _life_, but the three of them were quiet like statues.

Harry could see they both had paled, their faces filled with unease.

"Well, that's... new," Hermione broke the silence. She stared at Harry for a few more moments, before she quickly averted her eyes.

Ron shook his head slowly. "C'mon Harry, that's not funny. Just tell us the truth."

"That _is_ the truth, Ron," Harry quietly admitted. "But I'm on top of it, honest. It was difficult at first and only Snape or Dumbledore could come near, but now I'm fine. See?"

He forced a smile and begged silently for their fear to go away. In an attempt to lighten the mood he changed the subject.

"So, anyone up for a visit to Quality Quidditch Supplies? I need to get my broom fixed."

Ron reluctantly nodded. "Sure."

Hermione however said: "I'll be in at Flourish and BBlott's. Er... Good luck, Harry. See you later."

Ron was rather quiet in the shop. The same went for Hermione, when they met up with her at the book store. They bought their supplies for the coming school year, and afterwards they went to Florean Fortescue's for an ice-cream.

The conversation was strained. Harry realised with a pang of pain in his heart that they were still afraid of him.

The ice-cream wasn't that good either. Oh, it tasted fine, but the chill reminded him of another cold, one that was now more or less locked away inside him but still close enough to the surface to make him shiver.

When they both started to make excuses to leave early, Harry couldn't ask them to stay. He couldn't get the words to leave his lips. He did ask where the other Weasleys were, but Ron just shrugged and told him they were all on their own errands and would meet each other in the Leaky Cauldron, and "sorry Harry, but well, Hermione and I are dating and we'd like some time, if you know what I mean..." Ron trailed off miserably.

Harry looked at them. "You're together? That's great for you, guys."

Hermione smiled shyly. "Yes, Ron and I wrote a lot over the summer, and Mrs. Weasley invited me to stay for the last week before school."

"That's nice."

"So we'll be going, then. See you at Hogwarts, Harry."

He watched them leave. They would be together for a week, and yet they didn't want to spend one day of it with him.

He couldn't blame them. He was, after all, a monster now.

:-:

He walked around the Alley some more, waiting for the hours to go by. There was nothing else he could do.

Was this how his life would be from now on? Friendless, isolated, rigidly in control... but ultimately alone?

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Otherwise he could replace 'rigidly in control' with 'imprisoned and probably dissected'.

He decided to go to Ollivander's. Perhaps the Headmaster would be early, and they could go back to Hogwarts.

He'd just stopped in front of the wand shop when the door opened to reveal the face of its owner. Ollivander smiled at Harry.

"I had been hoping you would come here before Albus arrived. Come in, please, Mr. Potter. I would like to speak with you."

Harry frowned. Why did Ollivander want to see him?

He followed the old man inside.

The shop hadn't changed much. It was still dusty and narrow, with hundreds of boxes stacked upon the long shelves.

Ollivander closed the door behind him and then turned towards Harry. His pale eyes seemed to glow in the faint light.

Harry's control faltered a bit in this strange circumstances. He quickly reigned in the cold again, but not before getting a flash of warmth from Ollivander. There was something odd about it...

Harry had noticed, in the time before he mastered his... condition, that there was a slight difference between the warmth he took from the Headmaster and Snape, and the one he got from Dobby, or the Centaurs.

Ollivander's was different too. He felt... red?

The wand maker had closed his eyes and shivered when Harry's cold touched his mind.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean -" Harry started, but Ollivander interrupted him with a smile.

"It isn't your fault, Mr. Potter. I should have explained more before ushering you into my shop. I do not blame you for feeling threatened."

Harry didn't know how to react to that, so he changed the subject. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes. Before Albus joins us, so we'd better hurry. He'll be here in an hour, and I expect you have many questions."

This was getting even more mysterious. Harry voiced his thoughts. "Why don't you want Headmaster Dumbledore to hear us?"

Ollivander smiled sadly. "Because, for all his kindness, Albus doesn't understand us. He doesn't discriminate against Dark Creatures, but only as long as they try to act like humans. But sometimes it's more important to act like what you actually are. For him we all are humans with extras added on. But we aren't."

We? Harry's eyes were wide. "Are you like me?" He wasn't alone in this!

But Ollivander shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we're only the same in the sense of both being Dark Creatures. You are much rarer, Mr. Potter. I know only of two people who were in the same situation as you are, and neither of them ever made peace with their abilities. I hope you will."

"How do you know of those others, and how do you know of me? And if you don't mind me asking, what exactly are you then?"

Ollivander's eyes reflected silver in the gloom. "You didn't sense anything when your mind touched mine?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir. Well... I know it sounds silly, but you felt... red."

"I should have known you had not encountered one of my kind since your transformation." Ollivander's smile revealed a set of suddenly very sharp and long eye teeth. "In the future, you should know that what you apparently sense as 'red', means a vampire, Mr. Potter."

Harry didn't back away. Something inside him said he shouldn't be afraid. As his momentary loss of control had shown, even vampires were vulnerable to him, if worst came to worst.

"You haven't answered my other questions yet, Mr. Ollivander."

The wand maker chuckled. His teeth had shortened again to a normal length. "Indeed. I know of you because Albus told me. He hoped I knew more about your special circumstances, no doubt. Which I do, but that's not what I shall tell Albus. He would forbid you to visit Azkaban. I think you should go there as soon as possible, though of course it is your choice."

It was a relief to find someone who could tell him a bit of what was happening to him. He didn't quite grasp Mr. Ollivander's reasons why the Headmaster shouldn't know about this, but he decided to ignore that for now and just listen.

"You said there are others like me."

"No. There _were_. The last of them died nine hundred years ago. He told me about the previous existence of another, but I only know it because I happened to befriend him. He was an ordinary wizard, but in those days the magical government was extremely strict. My friend was suspected of having cursed the sheep of a village, I don't know the entire story behind it, only that in those days that was a horrible crime and justice was dealt swiftly. They already used the Dementors as a punishment, and my friend was Kissed. Apparently the Dementor faded away and he got some of its abilities – I'm sure you understand what I'm saying.

I met him several years later. He didn't want to speak about what exactly had happened during that Kiss, but he did admit to visiting Azkaban and being able to converse with their leader. They had offered him some kind of proposition, which he had declined, and after that they stopped following him."

Harry was silent. He too was being followed by a Dementor. It had saved him from the Centaurs.

So the answer lay in the prison. It was an unpleasant thought. He didn't want to go there, if he could help it.

"Do I have to go to Azkaban?"

"I don't know. I hope you will, just like I hope you will at least consider whatever the Dementors will propose. I'm no expect on this, Mr. Potter, it's a mystery for all of us, but I do know that my friend always seemed to be... lost. Missing something. In quiet moments I sometimes sensed an inactive mental link, though I can only guess that has something to do with his decision." He sighed. "If you want to tell this to Albus, you may. It is your choice. But I cannot help but hope you will meet the Dementor leader, and accept your destiny, whatever it may be. Great things indeed."

Harry swallowed. He didn't know if he wanted to tell this to the Headmaster. Perhaps it could wait.

And about going to Azkaban...

He met Ollivander's hopeful eyes. "I'll think about it, sir."

In his heart he decided against it. He didn't want to be a Dark Creature. He wanted to be human.

Ollivander offered him a cup of tea and they waited until Dumbledore arrived.

The Headmaster greeted Harry with a surprised: "You're early, Harry. Did everything go al right with your friends?"

Harry looked at the floor. "Fine, sir."

"Very well. Quinten, my old friend, you know why I'm here. Can you help Harry?"

Ollivander smiled at Harry. "I doubt he needs much help, he already has marvellous control. Except of course in threatening situations, which is just as well."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I know, but has this ever happened before?"

"His case is an extraordinary one," Ollivander answered. "I know of two other cases, both a long time ago. I shall ask around in certain circles. If I find anything I will notify you and Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Quinten."

They went back to Hogwarts. During the Floo-travel Harry could hear the voices again, though now they sounded more sinister.

He said goodbye to Dumbledore and had dinner in his room, relaxing the hold on his darker nature. The answers he'd hoped for had turned into more questions. He didn't plan on going to Azkaban, so he could ignore all of this, right?

He had a lot of things to think about.

:-:


End file.
